


Vocal Stimulation

by Olicity1013



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-30 14:58:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13954047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olicity1013/pseuds/Olicity1013
Summary: She can handle (and has) just about anything. Except, she's discovered in the weeks after Korea, Scott's hoarse, raspy voice in her ear.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, like so many here, I've gone down the Tessa/Scott rabbit hole and I make no apologies. After reading so many great stories here, I had to try my hand at one myself. I have no clue where this came from other than I have a thing for voices and I've heard several interviews where Scott's losing his voice for numerous reasons. And I figured if it affected me, maybe it affected Tessa. At least in some alternate reality. 
> 
> I never thought I'd write RPF. Never. I guess I was wrong.

~*~*~*~*~

She prides herself on what she can handle, has learned to handle over the past twenty years. 

She can handle 5am practices. She doesn’t like them, would rather sleep till a decent hour, but she learns early on how to force the sleep from her eyes, stumble out of bed and get into the car of the parent driving them to the rink. It helps that from age seven on, she’s usually fallen right back asleep on Scott’s shoulder during those rides. Later, when she can drive herself, it becomes years of conditioning, and a huge travel mug filled with coffee that get her through those car rides, makes them somewhat more bearable. But she misses Scott’s shoulder.

She can handle countless hours on planes, traveling around the globe to get to the next competition, exhibition or event. She’s perfected the art of looking like she’s immersed in a book or a movie on her iPad. Perfected the ability to sleep even while breathing in the stale pressurized air of a plane (even the few times they’ve been flown first class, that smell is the same). Perfected the small, pleasant smile that tells the flight attendant, or their teammates, that she’s too tired to talk or just wants to be left alone, without seeming rude. She’s even perfected the ability to block out most of the plane noise, conversations and atmosphere around her, using breathing and relaxation techniques she’s spent years learning. But she can’t block out Scott’s occasional light snoring when he falls asleep on her shoulder, doesn’t want to. It’s a comforting sound against her ear, and a familiar weight on her shoulder that she misses when he’s not in the seat next to her. 

She can handle not being able to regularly see her family and her non-skating friends. Has learned to make the most of the few days, here and there, when she can catch up with her girlfriends over dinner, or when her mom or Jordan can meet up with her for a short weekend of shopping and talking, allowing her to simply relax in the presence of two of the people that know her best in the world. She loves her family and friends and misses them, but feels just as strong a sense of home, of family, those nights when she’s back in her (or Scott’s) apartment, going over moves and program ideas until she falls asleep with her head on his shoulder. 

She can handle not having time to date or find any type of lasting relationship. While there are nights she misses having someone to attend a concert with, nights she misses sex, nights she wishes she had someone special to come home to, those are fewer than one would think. Probably because those needs can’t compare to the knowledge that she does have a significant relationship in her life, has had one for twenty years, even if it’s mostly platonic (except for the few times when it wasn’t). In fact, if she’s honest, she’s much more content to spend time with Scott off the ice, rather than trying to figure out how to explain their relationship to any man she’s attempted to date. She envies Scott at times, how he can have a relationship with someone (that’s not her) and seem to thrive. Although he’s been pretty committed to their partnership, and her, for the past two years. 

She can handle (at least better than she has in the past) the relentless pressure of being global icons, of being multiple Olympic medalists, and the constant and annoying questions from the press, from fans, from the world in general, about what type of relationship she and Scott have off the ice. She hates those questions, hates that so many people want to know the details of her and Scott’s personal, private lives rather than talk about the incredible success they’ve had as ice dancing partners for the past twenty years. But she’s learned to brush them off, turn the tables, or when in doubt, let Scott handle things. Sure, he tends to get more emotional, and perhaps reveal more than they want the public to know, but at least he takes the pressure off of her. And she tries to return the favor later, assuring him that they’re fine, he’s fine, and the media will be the media and things have to die down when they’re off the grid for a bit. Those are conversations that usually end with him tiredly sinking against her side, holding her to him while he lets his head rest on her shoulder, their breathing slowly falling into sync, and one if not both of them drifting off into sleep. 

Tessa Virtue can handle a lot of things. Has learned to handle a lot of things in the past twenty years of her life. But the one thing she’s come to realize she can’t handle? 

Scott Moir’s husky, raw sounding voice after weeks of press conferences, colds and pure exhaustion. 

It isn’t like she’s never heard Scott speak in that husky, low rasp before. Twenty years together, much of that spent in an ice rink or doing countless interviews after competitions and events, meant colds and hoarseness were a part of the job. She tries not to think too much about it, tries to handle interviews or other speaking engagements to allow his voice to rest. But this time, this time it’s different. 

They’ve done so many interviews in the aftermath of Korea, in such a short period of time, and his voice is not handling it well. The fact that he’s had a cold, and they’re both exhausted, isn’t helping. She tries to take the lead in some of the interviews, but he jumps in anyhow, making a joke or answering a question with a tired smile. But as she listens to him, hears him struggle to get the words out, even making jokes that he “needs to get his voice back,” she feels a shiver go through her body, making her heartbeat quicken and her breath catch. It doesn’t take her long to figure out what’s happening to her.

She’s turned on by Scott’s low, husky voice. 

In fact, she’s found herself losing track of what he’s saying during these interviews. Instead, she thinks about that husky voice, the voice she’s known her whole life, whispering in her ear as he leans on her shoulder, telling her exactly what he’s dreamed of doing to her off the ice. She feels herself shiver again, hoping she’s not blushing as she feels Scott’s hand touch her leg lightly under the table, making it obvious the press is waiting for her response. She comes back to herself, senses Scott watching her, and tries to cover for the fact she hasn’t a clue what he just said or what answer the press is looking for from her. Thankfully, he covers, making a joke about it for which she’s extremely grateful. 

“Where were you T, I thought I lost you there for a moment?” His husky voice rumbles against her ear as they leave the room when the press conference is done, his hand resting lightly on her waist to guide her, despite the fact that photographers are snapping away like crazy. She can’t help the shudder that goes through her body at his touch as she tries to figure out how to respond. “Tessa, you cold?” By now, they’re away from the crowd of press and she’s trying not to sink against him as he pulls her closer, side-hugging her to his body, obviously trying to give her warmth. She doesn’t feel like telling him the last thing she is right now is cold. Not with him pressed so close to her side, that voice driving her to madness.

“Fine, just really tired,” she manages, hoping he’ll buy it. She can tell from the way he’s looking at her that he doesn’t. But thankfully, he decides not to mention it, simply guides her to the elevators that will take them back to their rooms. She’s glad, because she’s not sure she can stop herself from doing something she knows she’ll probably regret if he keeps asking if she’s okay in that husky, hoarse voice against her ear. 

He leaves her at her door, a concerned expression on his face as he brushes a piece of hair behind her ear, asks again if she’s really all right. His voice is even huskier now, and she tells herself not to think it’s because of how close he’s standing, or the way his gaze is locked on hers. She assures him she’s fine, telling him she’ll see him in an hour or two for the banquet and after a short rest. She leans up to brush a quick kiss across his cheek, something they’ve done more with each other in the past year, coming dangerously close to the corner of his lips, before slipping back and into her room, shutting the door on his confused expression. 

After a moment of standing there, trying to compose herself, she gives up, sliding down the wall to the floor, trying to make sense of the feelings coursing through her body. Realizing she’s never wanted anything more than to open the door, pull Scott into the room, and convince him to use that raspy, hoarse voice to bring her to places she’s only dreamed about going with him for what seems like forever, even though its only recently she admitted that to herself. 

Then again, that’s assuming Scott would even be interested. Although, she thinks he might be if she’s read the signs right. 

She’s not a fool. She knows things are different between them since they started this Olympic comeback. He’s matured, she’s matured, and their time away from each other had been what they needed to come back together and start fresh. They’re connecting on levels they never have before, reflected in their performances, their connection on and off the ice, and finally, their double Olympic golds. It’s reflected in the way they respond to each other, the fact that they’re more comfortable with each other than anyone else around them. That they spend more nights than she cares to admit, curled up with each other on couches or in hotel beds (his and hers), breathing in sync, Scott’s arm around her waist, soothing her usually restless sleep as he snores lightly against her shoulder. 

They don’t talk about it, or question it, but it’s there and its always been more of a comfort than anything. She hasn’t let it be anything else. Can’t let it be anything else because they have career goals and drives to focus on.

But that was then, this is now, where an uncertain future lies of them. And his voice, rasping through interviews and against her ear, isn’t helping. It’s stirring up thoughts and feelings she’s been trying not to think about. Thoughts and feelings that have always been there, if she’s being honest with herself. Thoughts and feelings that are suddenly demanding her body take notice and do something about every time she feels his breath against her ear, hears his low voice whispering something to her that’s meant to be secret, hidden from everyone else. 

This really doesn’t surprise her, if she allows herself to think about it. She’s always loved Scott’s voice. Ever since age seven, just the sound of him calling her name, talking her through some difficult choreography, making a joke, makes her smile, makes her feel safe. Over the years, his voice deepens and changes, but the comfort in hearing it remains. His is the only voice she wants to hear before a skate, whispering to her that they’re “together,” that it’s “just them.” The only voice that stops her tears in the nights after Sochi, as he murmurs, “it’s okay Tessa,” “let it out, I’m here,” makes her feel safe and somewhat better as she falls into a fitful sleep against his shoulder. Even when his voice rises, when they’re arguing over a routine, or something happening in their personal lives, or the stress of being together for such long periods of time, she still marvels at the levels of passion and emotion that come through in his voice. The voice that she misses so desperately in the times they’re apart, and suddenly makes everything all right when they’re together again. 

Yes, she loves Scott’s voice, in all its shades and tones. She’s always been able to read his moods and anticipate his thoughts through it and has taken comfort in that for twenty years. 

But now, like their circumstances, his voice has changed, grown darker and huskier thanks to the events of the past few weeks, and she’s not sure what to do with the feelings its stirring up. Because despite what she’s able to hide from the press, from their friends, their skating team, and to a degree their families, she’s never been able to hide from Scott. And she’s pretty sure he’s caught on to some of this – even if she’s pretty sure he’s not aware it’s his voice that’s suddenly brought her body and her mind to the state they’re in whenever she’s around him.

It scares her a little. Not only because she’s not completely sure he feels the same, but because admitting it, potentially giving into it, means changing things from how they’ve been for twenty years. Means potentially losing the best friend and best partner she’s ever had (not that she’s had many). Means putting her heart out there and hoping he doesn’t stomp all over it, knowingly or not. 

She sighs, fighting a tension headache coming on. It doesn’t help that her body’s tense and still wired from listening to Scott speak for an hour. That her mind is getting lost in the fantasies of finally acting on what she feels for her partner, of taking that chance, of risking it all.

All because she suddenly can’t handle Scott Moir’s husky, raspy voice against her ear. 

Frustrated, she gets to her feet, reaching for her phone to see how much time she’s lost contemplating her partner’s voice. Thirty minutes. Which means she has an hour and thirty minutes to regroup and prepare her mind and body to spend the rest of the evening in the company of Scott and about a hundred fans and potential sponsors, listening to him speak at the charity event they’re appearing at tonight, and try not to imagine him whispering illicit things into her ear as they sip champagne and try to convince the world that they’re business partners and business partners alone. 

She can handle anything, she’s done that for most of her life, with or without Scott. But now she wonders if she can handle the next four hours without doing something that could ruin the past twenty years of her life. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott has some feelings too.

Chapter 2  
~*~*~*~*~*~

Scott knows something’s up with Tessa. He’s pretty sure her mind is elsewhere as he spouts the same tired answers to questions he is sick of answering and just wants to get through. When he turns to get her response, cameras flashing all around them, his breath catches as he notices the far off, dreamy look in her eyes as she stares at him. It’s obvious she’s not paying any attention to what he’s saying-but she’s paying attention to something about him.

He gently touches her thigh under the table, out of sight of the press, hopes it brings her back to him. He doesn’t like it when she’s not at his side, physically or mentally. He hides his startled expression when he feels her body tremble at the touch, sees her gorgeous green eyes come back into focus, confused, a little hazy, and for a second, forgets his own name with the way she’s looking at him. It only lasts a second, but it shakes him. And he knows that if he doesn’t get her speaking soon, the press will catch on to whatever is happening and there’s nothing good that can come of that. So he feeds her the question and is relived as she focuses, comes back to herself and offers an answer. He tries not to think too much about that moment as they somehow get through the rest of the press conference.

He’s even more sure something’s up with his partner as they head out of the room and back towards the elevators. He’s positive it isn’t the cold making her shiver as they leave because the room, the hotel itself, is almost stiflingly hot and she has on a light sweater. His hand rests low on her back in its familiar spot as they move through the crowd, and he can’t help but pull her closer to his side, needs to feel her against him and assure himself that she’s really okay. He leans down to whisper in her ear, keeping his voice low, asks if she’s okay, feels her shiver again before saying she’s “fine, just tired,” even as she presses herself closer to his side. He tightens his grip, wanting to keep her close. He always wants to keep her close now, it seems. He isn’t ready to analyze why just quite yet. 

He gets her to her door and asks her once more if she’s okay, unable to stop reaching out to push that stray piece of hair that’s always lose behind her ear. He loves the feel of her skin against his fingers, even in this brief touch. The way she instinctively leans into his touch, whether she realizes it or not. The way she leans towards him as she insists she’s fine. 

He feels his heart stop as she leans up and brushes a quick, soft kiss across his cheek, a move that’s not unfamiliar to him, but makes him wonder, not for the first time, what she’d do if he turned his head slightly allowing their lips to meet. It isn’t as if they haven’t kissed before, staged for a routine, drunkenly after a competition win, or even some experimenting they’d done as kids. But suddenly, this time, this kiss on his cheek feels…different. Feels as if she wants him to turn his head, just slightly. If he’s honest, he’s felt a lot of things are ‘different’ in the past two years, and he’s not sure that’s a bad thing. Not at all. 

She pulls back and he sees…something…in her eyes that makes his heart pound, his body tense and his eyes fill with confusion and arousal. But before he can say anything, she’s closing the door and he’s left staring at it, wondering what the hell just happened. 

After a few minutes, he realizes he needs to move, and with a sigh, turns and heads down the hall to his room. He’s not sure what happened today, but he’s determined to find out. Tessa has never been good at hiding things from him, and he’s pretty sure he can get her to spill whatever it is that’s troubling her, no matter what it takes. 

As he considers what could be bothering her, going back over the past few days and this afternoon’s press conference, a glimmer of a suspicion enters his mind. It takes a moment to become clear, but when it does, something clicks into place. After a few more moments of contemplation, he’s pretty sure the theory he’s come up with is right. The signs are all there, maybe he’s just figured out (he thinks) how to read them. After all, he’s spent a good portion of the past twenty years learning to read her body language, emotions and moods, including ones he’s pretty sure she’d rather he not. But if he’s right about this…

He’s not surprised when these thoughts make his heart pound against his chest and his lower body tighten. It’s been like this for longer than he cares to admit. But maybe that’s about to change. With a small smile, he decides that he’d better be on top of his game tonight-and that starts with taking a shower and coming up with a plan to prove his theory. 

~*~*~*~*~

She knows she’s running late as she hears his knock on her door. Putting down the curling iron, she walks over and opens the door. Her eyes widen as she sees how nicely he’s dressed, dark slacks and a button-down with a matching jacket. He’s holding two ties, one blue, one green, and wearing the smile that’s just for her as she steps back and lets him in. She’s pretty sure his eyes flash as he gets a good look at what she’s wearing. 

“You look fantastic, T. That shade of green is my favorite on you.” His voice is, if possible, even raspier than before and just as before, she can’t stop the shiver that runs through her body as he takes in her outfit, his gaze running up and down her body, lingering in certain places longer that is probably acceptable for a business partner. She’s suddenly glad Jordan convinced her to buy the green sheath that fits her like a second skin and shows off what curves she does have. 

“Yeah, I figured it matches my gorgeous green eyes.” She’s not sure where that came from, but as his eyes widen, she can’t help but smile. Then, realizing she left the curling iron on, she turns and flies back over to the mirror. “Now stop distracting me and let me finish or we’ll never be ready.” 

“But I like distracting you, it makes life interesting.” She jumps at the words, and the fact that he’s moved over to stand next to her as she puts the last few curls in her hair. She tries to ignore the way her heart pounds, and the fact that his gaze is now intently focused on her. Not that she minds. She’s always loved feeling his gaze focused on her, it makes her feel like there’s no one else in the world but the two of them.

She hisses as in her distraction, the curling iron brushes against the skin of her neck, quickly pulling it away and dropping it to the counter. Before she realizes what’s happened, Scott’s behind her, pushing away the fall of hair at her neck, his fingers reaching to stroke the red mark that’s appeared on her skin.

“Ouch, that looks like it hurts,” he whispers, his breath hot against her neck, his voice rumbling in her ear. She’s ready to deny it, she’s no stranger to pain, when she feels his lips brush over the mark. She stills, unsure of what to do. This isn’t the first time he’s kissed her neck of course. He’s known for doing that after most of their performances, or in their pre-performance hugs, or even, sometimes, during their performances (she can still feel that stolen kiss during the Roxanne number against her upper back). But this feels different. And she’s pretty sure it’s because her body is once again, reacting to his voice so close to her ear and his lips on her skin. 

“Scott, we’re going to be late,” she manages, hoping he doesn’t notice that her voice is now lower than normal, slightly breathier as well. She feels his lips curve into a smile as he pulls back but doesn’t move away from her body. 

“We’re the reason they’re giving this party, it’ll start when we get there.” The words are pure cocky Scott, but delivered in a little more than a growly whisper now as his voice is really hoarse, and they bring a smile to her face even as her body tingles with what she’s fully aware is arousal. But she can’t go there right now, not when they’re expected downstairs in less than five minutes.

“Get your tie on and let me finish.” She’s glad her voice is teasing now, although still breathy, and she feels her heart stumble as he again gives her that smile that she knows is only for her. 

“Yes, ma’am” he drawls in his ‘country boy’ voice, sounding sexier than anyone has a right to, moving back over to the bed to retrieve the green tie. She’s not surprised to see it matches her dress exactly. She’s long given up on trying to figure out how Scott always seems to know what colors she’s wearing. She just chalks it up to twenty years of knowing her better than she knows herself. 

Five minutes later they’re put together and leaving the room. As they walk towards the elevator, his hand finds its usual place against her lower back. Her lower back which is left bare tonight by the elegant sweep of the near backless green dress. She shivers again as his fingers, consciously or not, stroke her exposed skin. Her breath catches as he leans in and whispers “you really do look fantastic tonight.” 

She draws in a deep breath and turns to look up into his eyes. Her heart starts pounding at the look she sees reflected there. For a moment, she forgets what she wants to say, lost in his gaze, sensing he’s right there with her. The sound of a throat clearing behind them brings her back to reality quickly and they both turn to see an older woman smiling at them. Blushing, she reaches out to press the ‘down’ button, feeling Scott’s gaze still on her. 

It’s going to be a long night.  
~*~*~*~*~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things intensify (or Scott and Tessa get a little hot and bothered).

Chapter 3  
~*~*~*~

Scott’s pretty sure about halfway through the evening, that his theory is right. He’s almost positive it’s his voice (or near lack thereof) that’s causing these interesting (and welcome) reactions in his partner. 

He knows he’s dangerously close to losing his voice completely, that its already two octaves lower than normal and sounds like rough sandpaper. He doesn’t pay much attention to this, knowing that its part of the job, giving interviews, talking when Tessa can’t, it’s just something he does, whether he has a voice or not. In fact, he’s wondered if he doesn’t sound like a frog croaking after hearing himself lately.

But it’s rather obvious now (he hopes) that Tessa probably doesn’t think that. In fact, the more he thinks about it, the more certain he becomes. Each time he’s felt her shiver today, has been right after he’s whispered something in her ear. Not that he’s not always whispering something to her, its second nature to him on the ice or off, but today is different. 

For twenty years, he’s known and taken great pride in the fact that it’s his voice that can calm her nerves, share her joy and comfort her through her tears. She’s never said as much, but he knows in the way she sinks against him, lets him whisper that things “will be okay,” that “it’s just us,” that they can do this “together,” without complaint. How she seeks him out and buries her head against his neck while he soothes her or celebrates with her. She even admits, more than once, that his voice is what she needs to hear.

He needs her too. Her clear, steady voice reassuring him that “it’s all right, we’re fine,” that “the press will lose interest, don’t be so hard on yourself,” that together “we can do anything.” He relies on her, on her voice, just as much, if not more than she does his. During the darkest moments of his life, she’s been the one, knowingly or not, to pull him out of the depression. She’s the first voice he wants to hear in the morning, and the last voice he wants to hear at night. Some nights, when he can’t sleep, he’ll simply call her, try to get her talking (about what it doesn’t matter), just hearing the sound of her soft voice soothing something inside of him that allows him to settle into sleep, sometimes (if he’s really lucky) with his arm around her waist, her body spooned against his. 

Other times, when they’re working through a new lift or move, he has to force his body to not react to her voice as she talks him through the placements, telling him where to put his hands, or position his legs to help support her in the air. It’s become harder (literally) these past few years, with their new closeness and the pressure they put on themselves to be perfect, including focusing on their partnership to almost the exclusion of all else, to not react to the one person he spends nearly all his time with. And the fact that, whether she realizes it or not, her voice gets breathier and sexier in those moments than it ever has before. 

He’s never thought much about his voice, or the fact it might be having the same impact on her. But maybe it’s time to rethink that. This cold and exhaustion just might be the opportunity he’s been waiting for, for (if he’s honest) longer than he can remember. 

Mulling this over, he watches her totally charm a middle-aged man and his wife sitting next to them with stories of the two of them as children. He’s pretty certain but he figures it can’t hurt to be 100 percent sure. He smiles and begins to formulate a plan.

~*~*~*~*~  
She’s pretty sure he’s been paying more attention to her than the couple sitting with them at the table. They’re a nice couple, very chatty, but she has to admit, it’s hard to respond to their questions when she feels his gaze on her, even as he remains silent.

She thinks it’s maybe a good thing, because if he spoke, her body would most likely react again and now is not the most appropriate place for that to happen. Her attention is suddenly caught by the clearing of a throat from their host, who has taken the microphone on stage, and she turns to look at him as he thanks the crowd for attending and the two of them for supporting this charity.

She jumps lightly in her chair as she feels Scott’s hand come to rest high on her thigh under the tablecloth, thankful that in the darkness around them, no one notices. Her breath catches as he leans in and whispers “how much longer do you think we have to stay?” It’s low and husky and she could swear his lips just brushed the shell of her ear, his fingers tightening on her thigh. 

Struggling to form words with the riot going on in her body, she tries to sound relaxed. “Well, considering we haven’t had dessert yet, and as you said earlier, this party is for us, I think we have to stick it out a little longer.” She’s pleased her voice doesn’t sound as shaky as she feels. She really, really needs to get control of herself. 

His voice is husky, the sound sending shivers down her spine. “Well, I hope there’s chocolate on the menu. I’m in the mood for something sinfully sweet right about now.” 

She can’t help the way her breathing stops then starts up in a ragged pattern again as he whispers the words “sinfully sweet.” Shooting him a glance, she sees a look of satisfaction in his eyes and wonders what he’s up to. Because she knows her partner and he’s up to something. She wonders if by some chance he’s realized what his voice is doing to her tonight. The thought makes her body tingle and her breathing shallow.

Before she can ponder it more, she hears their host asking her and Scott to come forward and say a few words. Struggling to bring her breathing back under control, she gathers herself and stands, feeling Scott at her back, his hand lightly guiding her to the front of the room.

She shakes hands with the grey-haired gentleman as she reaches the podium then steps to the side to let Scott do the same. As the man steps aside, she moves back towards the microphone intending to give the usual speech she does in situations like this. To her surprise, and before she can utter a word, she feels Scott’s arm slide around her waist, pulling her into his side in a familiar gesture as he leans towards the microphone. 

It’s a practiced move although not one they usually do at events like this, when they try to keep speculation about their relationship at bay. But this time something about it feels different. And she’s surprised to find that she doesn’t mind as much as she usually would. She’s suddenly back in the present as she realizes that Scott is speaking, his voice sounding scratchy, and husky and making her feel…things…again. 

Somehow, she manages to pay attention to what he’s saying, and respond appropriately when and where needed. She’s just glad when it’s over and their host is once more stepping to the microphone. She breathes a sigh of relief as she moves back with Scott, his arm still around her waist with no apparent sign of him removing it. She’s not complaining and is now more than ready to get out of here before she does something totally stupid, like kiss him in front of all these people like she’s wanted to for months, probably years. It’s that damned voice again, she knows it. 

But it’s obviously not to be. At least not yet.

She’s suddenly aware that their host is motioning to the small band that’s been playing music throughout the night. They’ve done a mix of classical and jazz, contemporary and popular, providing a nice background atmosphere. She hasn’t paid much attention to them until now, as their host turns to the musicians and asks them to play, what, she can’t hear, but as they start, she realizes it’s a waltz. She knows what’s going to happen, feels that Scott does as well as his arm tightens a fraction, and sure enough, seconds later, their host is asking if the ‘Olympic ice dance champions would grace them with an off-ice dance.’

The room bursts into enthusiastic applause and she looks up to see Scott watching her, his eyes dark but unreadable at the moment. She knows they’ve been set up and they really can’t refuse. She isn’t sure if she even wants to. Because the thought of being in Scott’s arms again (it’s been three weeks since they’ve been on the ice together after all) is extremely appealing at the moment.

She wonders what he’s thinking, but quickly loses all train of thought as he guides her towards the small dance floor off to the side of the room, his eyes still unreadable. Her heart pounds as they reach the center of the floor and he pulls her into a dance hold. It’s a familiar position, they’ve waltzed together for years, on and off the ice, but it’s never felt quite like this. 

Without a word, he begins to lead her in the familiar steps, and even though they’re not in skates, she moves with him as she always does. They’re used to choreographing routines together, so she doesn’t think twice as he guides her through various twirls and spins with the gentle pressure of his hands on her waist, her back, her sides. She’s in his arms again after far too long and she’s never been happier. 

He’s holding her closer than he normally would, although it shouldn’t seem out of the ordinary to anyone for the waltz they’re doing. But it’s different tonight, and she isn’t kidding herself about why.

He’s whispering gentle cues and familiar words against her ear in their usual process of guiding and talking each other through routines. It’s a talent they’ve perfected, can almost do without moving their lips. But tonight, those words are whispered in that raspy, sexy voice and his lips brush over her ear, against her collarbone and across her neck as they twist and glide through some of the moves they’ve perfected after years of dancing together.

Her body is now in a state of arousal she’s finding it very hard to hide. It’s not like she hasn’t been turned on before while practicing some of these moves with Scott, more so in the past few years. But she’s always soldiered through and told her body to ignore it. 

She can’t do that tonight. Not with how he’s moving her against him, taking his time sliding his hands over various parts of her body in ways that definitely don’t say ‘business partners.’ Not that anyone can say anything because it is a waltz and it’s a sensual dance in and of itself. Plus, they’re champion ice dancers who know a thing or two about creating the perfect waltz. 

But she knows it’s more. Knows Scott knows it’s more by the way his eyes flash when he brushes a hand across her chest as he spins her away from him, how his breath (and hers) catches when his fingers slip past the material of her dress and press against her nearly bare lower back as he twirls her in his arms, pushing and pulling her body around his as they move across the floor. 

She wonders what he’d do if she threw caution to the wind, threw out years of self-consciousness, of self-control, of worry, and simply leaned up, wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her fingers in his dark hair, and pulled his lips to hers. 

Something of what she’s thinking must be reflected in her eyes, because as she looks at him, she sees his eyes flash and her heart races as she clearly reads the desire this is unmistakable now in those dark orbs. 

Their eyes are locked, gazes intense as they bring their dance to a close, instinctively ending in one of their favorite poses, her torso bent back over his arm, his head coming to rest against her collarbone. As thunderous applause erupts around them, she feels him press a kiss to her throat, his arms tightening around her before he lifts his head to gaze into her eyes.

The passion she sees there stuns her, makes her body throb and ache for his touch in a way it hasn’t before (or at least, she hasn’t let it before). She’s not surprised that its Scott that brings her to this state. It’s always been Scott, whether she (or he) admits it or not. 

She shivers, feeling her heart thump as he gives her his special smile, the one that’s reserved for her. Only this time, the sensuality in it makes her body tremble and sends a flash of desire through her already overstimulated body. 

She thinks she utters a quiet moan. Whatever it is, it’s enough to make Scott’s eyes flash as he quickly pulls her up to a standing position, arm tight around her waist as he leads her in a bow. 

“We really need to get out of here,” he husks against her ear, his voice now a near growl. She shudders as it sends another flare of heat through her body, centering between her thighs. 

She couldn’t agree more.  
~*~*~*~


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head for Scott and Tessa.

Chapter 4

Unfortunately, getting out of the room is beginning to appear impossible. 

As they make their way back to their table, dessert is being served (sadly, she sees no chocolate in sight) and there is a crush of people moving towards them, obviously wanting to ask questions and meet them. As every nerve in her body (which is still pressed against Scott’s side, not that she’s complaining) is firing on all synapses at her partner’s closeness, breathing still a bit short after their sensual dance, talking to people is the last thing she wants to do. Knows that Scott feels the same from the frustrated look she sees as he looks at her. 

She sighs, hating this, but knowing this is part of what they signed up for. So she puts on her ‘public smile’ and tries to sound graceful as she turns to answer a question from a white-haired older woman who wants to know how she stays in such good shape.

She notes that Scott’s arm remains around her waist as he starts up a conversation with a man to his left. And tonight, she doesn’t shy away or try to remove it. She sees the looks they’re getting, especially after that dance and knows they’re not doing anything to dispel the rumors about their relationship. But she can’t find it in herself to care. Not tonight.

Tonight, she’s more interested in where things are going to go when they get out of here. Because she’s definitely sure that Scott’s caught onto what’s going on with her. And from how he’s acting around her tonight, she doesn’t think he minds too much. In fact, she thinks maybe he doesn’t mind at all. 

She tries to bring her attention back to the stately gentleman now standing next to her, asking about how it feels to win Olympic gold, but finds all she can really concentrate on is Scott’s raspy voice next to her as he explains why they chose "Roxanne" to a middle aged woman who is hanging on his every word. She somehow manages to find a reply for the man awaiting her response but hopes he doesn’t note that her heart isn’t in it. 

She feels Scott give her side a squeeze, his fingers opening and closing gently on her waist, not quite in a caress but enough that it’s driving her crazy. Her body always responds to his, it doesn’t surprise her that its doing so now. She’s just always able to control it better before. Doesn’t let her mind wander to places it shouldn’t go because it might distract their training, or make things awkward. 

It doesn’t help that Scott, who usually does the same, is obviously enjoying what he’s doing to her. Because she knows he’s aware of how her body is reacting (how can he not be after that dance). And because she knows his body so well, just spent four minutes pressed against it, she can tell she’s not the only one affected. Plus, the echo of his words about putting on a show still resonate, making her shiver a little each time she thinks about what he means.

It scares her a little, this is so new and she’s not even sure what this is, if it’s anything. She’s known him for twenty years and always been so careful to keep their personal and professional lives separate. It’s never been what she considers easy, but she did it, he did it, and their partnership thrived, with the Olympic medals to prove it.

But now, without all that pressure, with the uncertainty of the future and what they’re going to do next career wise, maybe it’s time to explore the one option they haven’t in all their years together. 

She comes back to herself as she feels Scott press his hand against her side, realizing that someone, most likely the woman smiling in front of her, has just asked her a question. A question that she obviously missed. That seems to be the trend today. She looks up at Scott, hoping he’ll help her out, and he does, giving her a knowing smile that sends her heart racing again as he repeats the woman’s question, his voice so raspy she can barely understand what he’s saying.

She wonders again how soon it will be till they can get out of there.  
~*~*~*~*~  
Scott’s been ready to leave for the past half hour, ever since he nearly gave in to the desire that almost consumed him (and her) on the dance floor. He’s still trying to get his body under control as he talks to the people around him, hoping no one notices his more clipped replies or the tension in his body. He really, really just wants to get them out of there, to continue their dance in a much more private place and see just how hot and bothered he can make his usually unflappable partner.

But he tries to be polite, to answer question after question from a seemingly endless parade of people. After all, they need these people’s sponsorship and support. But he’s finding it harder and harder to form words. It doesn’t help that his voice is now almost truly gone…and Tessa remains glued to his side. It’s completely distracting and he’s not sure how he’s managed to concentrate with her curves snuggled against his, especially having run his hands all over them just a short while ago on the dance floor. 

He’s surprised she isn’t pulling away, as she’d normally do at this degree of public affection, which honestly isn’t all that much out of the ordinary for them, but he knows how careful she is about the amount of touching they do in public. Of course, they’d done a fair bit of ‘touching’ with that dance, although, he thinks, they probably got away with it because it was a sensual dance by its nature. Then again, from the looks they’re getting now, he thinks the gossip mill will be alive and well with tales of their relationship tomorrow. 

It doesn’t help that he notices her distraction as he pulls her back into conversations a bit more than he normally would have to. It’s obvious her mind is elsewhere and he can only hope it’s because she’s still turned on from their dance (because there was no mistaking how her body had responded to his) or that it’s because he’s made sure that he’s rasped a few answers to questions closer to her ear than might have been necessary. He’s almost positive his theory is spot on and he can’t help but feel a sense of pride, and if he’s honest, relief.

They’ve spent the better part of the past twenty years perfecting their on ice chemistry, making the world believe they’re a couple of star-crossed lovers. He’s enjoyed every moment of their performances, but he won’t deny, especially in the past few years that he’s wanted to expand that on ice chemistry to off-knowing full well that the emotions were there on both sides. They’d just become too good at pushing them down and denying them for whatever reasons they’d come up with. Reasons that at the time, probably were for the best.

But that was then, this was now. And the way Tessa reacts to his voice, to his closeness tonight, to the way she looses herself in his arms, eyes flashing and body tempting his in the waltz, maybe it’s time to see what happens when they let their guard down and just let **them** happen. He can feel his body respond to these thoughts, and almost unconsciously, opens and closes his fingers against her waist in a gentle caress. He feels her slight tremble at the feeling, not obvious to anyone but him (as she’s still pressed extremely close to his side), and it only makes him want to see how far he can push before they’re both past the point of no return. 

Plus, he’s already planning more ways to make absolutely certain of his theory about how she’s responding to his voice. But before he can do anything, he’s got to figure out how to get them out of this ballroom and away from the seemingly endless parade of people waiting to talk to them. 

He’s eternally grateful when Tessa, and his disappearing voice, provides them with the perfect opportunity. 

Tessa is aware that as the evening progresses, Scott’s voice gets worse. Even though she’s handling her side of the conversation people keep approaching and neither of them can see a way to gracefully excuse themselves. And while she’s getting a secret (or not so secret to him she thinks) thrill of hearing his raspy voice, she also senses he’s fast reaching the point of exhaustion (and frustration) and it can’t be good for him to keep talking. Sensing him flagging, she squeezes his side and begins to make their excuses, stressing that Scott needs to rest and recover his voice. She sees the grateful look he gives her, feels happy to know that she’s taking care of him in this moment. Feels a sense of anticipation as she imagines what might happen when they finally are alone.

A few minutes later, after thanking their host, they’re in the lobby and headed for the elevators. Scott still has her pulled tightly to his side and she can feel his gaze on her. In silence, they get on the elevator. As the doors close behind them, she’s suddenly extremely aware that it’s just the two of them. Her heart begins to pound as Scott slips his other arm around her bringing her in front of him, her (bare) back now resting against his chest. She closes her eyes and breathes in his scent, feels his breath ruffle the hair on top of her head. 

“Thanks, T, I don’t know how much longer my voice would have held out.” She sighs at the now all too familiar tingle that shivers through her as she feels his lips at her ear. She clearly feels that he’s not unaffected by her presence and it gives her a sense of pride that she, Tessa Virtue, has gotten Scott Moir all hot and bothered.

“I figured, and I wanted to leave with you too so it worked out perfectly.” She’s unaware of the phrasing of her words, or the dreamy smile that’s taken over her face as she relaxes further back into his body, the feel of his palms against her stomach through the thin silk of her dress both arousing and comforting. 

But Scott’s heart leaps as he picks up on what she just said. He tries to control his body as he pulls her in just a little tighter. 

“So you wanted to leave with me, that sounds,” he leans down and decides to go for it, “rather suggestive Ms. Virtue.” He breathes the words into the curve of her neck as he presses a kiss underneath her ear. 

She can’t hold back the gasp that escapes her at both his words, and the feeling of his lips once more against her sensitive skin. Her brain struggles to come up with a reply, but fails to convey anything but the fact that if they don’t get out of this elevator soon, she’s not going to be responsible for her actions. 

Thankfully, the doors slide open just then and without a word, she lets Scott take the lead, walking with her down the long, empty hallway. Her heart beats triple time as he leads her past her room and to his own door. She remains silent, terrified that if she says something now she’ll ruin the moment.

Because no matter how terrified she is of what this might mean-she’s more terrified to ignore it or try to run from it. She’s done that for too long and she’s too tired.

And if she’s honest, she’s never been this turned on in her life. And that’s saying something after twenty years with Scott. 

Scott tries not to do a fist pump as he leads her to his room, feeling no resistance from the body that’s still curved against him. He wasn’t sure she’d be up for this, now that they’re alone, but obviously, she’s either so distracted by his presence, or (he hopes) she’s ready to see where this leads. 

Managing to get his key card out of his pocket, he swipes it over the lock and pushes the door open, pulling her with him into the small foyer that opens up into a small suite. While it’s not the penthouse, it’s definitely a step up from the regular hotel rooms they usually end up staying it. Just goes to show you what a determined sponsor will do to get your business.

Right now, he’s extremely glad that there’s a larger sitting area near a small kitchen, with a wide open space that’s perfect for the idea that’s been in his head since they’d waltzed around that public, crowded ballroom filled with curious and questioning eyes. 

There’s no one else here now. And that’s exactly how he wants it.

“Wait right here T,” he husks against her ear as he leaves her standing, dreamy eyed and breathing heavily in the center of the room. Walking over to one of the bags sitting by the window, he shuffles through it, pulling out what he’s looking for. Taking his phone over to the stereo system, he plugs it in and sets it to the song he wants. 

As the familiar melody begins to play, he sees her eyes crinkle as she registers what she’s hearing. His heart leaps as he moves back to her and sees the perfect understanding in her gorgeous green eyes. He suddenly realizes this might just be the best idea he’s had…well, ever. 

~*~*~*~*~  
Tessa wonders what he’s doing, although she’s in such a state she really doesn’t care, as long as he comes back over and puts his arms around her again. It’s only been a few minutes, but she’s missing him. 

She wonders for a moment, again, why now? Why tonight? Surely this can’t be simply the result of hearing his sexy rasp of a voice. Then she looks at him, thinks back over the past few weeks, the past few years if she’s really looking, and realizes that everything’s been building to this moment. Since they were seven and ten, although she’s pretty sure neither of them could have imagined them here, now, twenty years later. 

Suddenly, the strains of a familiar song begin to play from the stereo and her eyes widen as he moves back towards her. Her heart starts pounding as he pulls her into his arms and once more breathes into her ear.

“Dance with me?” She sighs, wonders if he thinks there’s even a chance she’ll tell him no, especially when he’s asking in that voice, and she can feel how his body’s responding to hers. 

“Didn’t we already do that?” She’s teasing him, although her voice is breathy, and sees the amusement in his gaze, even as he pulls her closer, eyes darkening.

“But this is just us, you and me. With no one watching. With no expectations. No rules.” He’s making no attempt to hide the fact that he’s aroused, his voice sounding more like a growl as he sways with her. She can feel him hard against her. She’s not trying to hide her own arousal either. 

For once, she wants him to know how he affects her. No hiding anymore. They’ve done that for too long. Tonight it’s just them. No prying media or well meaning teammates or knowing family members. It’s just the two of them, and their song, and she can think of nothing more fitting than to take this next step to wherever they’re going, through the art that brought and has kept them together for twenty years. 

“No rules. Just us. Together.” She whispers the words against his neck, where’s she now buried her head, his hand in its familiar spot on the back of her neck, holding her to him. She’s been waiting for this a lot longer than just for tonight. 

Scott sighs as he closes his eyes, delights in the now familiar tremble he feels go through her body, echoed in his as she whispers her consent. All thought flies from his mind as he pulls her even tighter against him and buries his head in her neck, breathing deeply and calmly. Instinct takes over and despite the evident arousal coursing through them both, they sync their breathing, feeling the usual sense of calm steal over their bodies, although tonight, there’s also a sense of anticipation, a sense of the unknown that both frightens and excites them. 

As the music builds, she pulls back, her gaze locking on his. Sees so many expressions and emotions in his eyes that take her breath away. For a moment, she feels the weight of his feelings, of hers, and the monumental change this is going to have on their future. While it doesn’t make her want to stop, it does give her pause, just for a moment. 

Some of this must be reflected on her face because Scott leans down, his eyes locked on hers as he breathes the next words against her lips. His voice is a husky whisper, nearly gone, but she has no problem understanding him. 

“Just us Tessa. And tonight, you’re mine.”

~*~*~*~*~  
Scott knows he’s said the right thing when he sees her eyes spark at his words, hears her breathing shudder to a halt as her gaze locks on his. He can read her so well, is just as scared about what they're stepping into. But he knows that they'll make it through together-and there is no way he's stopping now. 

His heart nearly stops again at her soft reply, as she reaches up to whisper against his ear. 

“I’ve always been yours, Scott. And you've always been mine.” 

He growls at her words, and by the fact that it’s now her turn to plant kisses against his collarbone. He almost can’t believe this is real, that Tessa Virtue, his Tessa, just admitted the she was his. He wants nothing more than to take her lips, take her body, and show her just how "hers" he is as well, has always been, but resists. He’s spent too much time and thought on his plan for tonight over the past few hours, if not most of the past twenty years, to forget it all, which he knows will happen the instant their lips meet.

Struggling for control, he moves her into a dance hold, locks his gaze with hers and begins to move with her as the music swells and Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman’s voices fill the room around them. There’s no way he’s going to even attempt to do any of the overhead lifts with her from this part of their free program (at least not in that dress), but he’s creative enough to find alternate ways to move to the music. Thankfully, she knows and trusts him enough to let him lead and as always, their bodies ebb and flow together in perfect rhythm. 

This is what they do. This is them. Tessa and Scott. The real Tessa and Scott when no one’s watching, or looking, or expecting anything from them. It’s just the two of them, alone together, expressing how they feel through the art form that’s kept them connected for twenty years. Allowing themselves to put their hearts and emotions into this dance, no acting anything tonight. 

It also provides the perfect opportunity for the final test of his theory. 

As they move around the room, sensuality and passion infusing every movement of their dance, he’s constantly whispering against her ear. Usually he’s whispering a gentle direction, a cue to move this way or that, guiding her through various moves that they’ve done countless times before, both on the ice and in practice. But tonight, he’s definitely not interested in coaching her through a routine. 

Instead, he whispers in her ear exactly what he wants to do to her tonight, what he wants her to do to him, how she makes him feel, how he can’t stop wanting her, how he’s wanted her for what seems like forever. His lips brush across her earlobe then her neck, nipping the soft skin with his teeth, then soothing it with a swipe of his tongue. He hears her moan as he hits a particularly sensitive spot on her neck, stores that away for future reference as he continues to run his lips over every part of her he can reach.

This is as real as it gets and there’s no turning back now. 

As the music swells to its close, he twirls her out and back, pulls her close and then starts to sing quietly in her ear.  
~*~*~*~*~  
When she hears his voice begin to sing the familiar words to her, her heart skips a few beats. It’s not that she’s shocked, he usually can’t stop himself from singing to her when they do this piece. But hearing him now, his voice so low and deep, raspy and hoarse, but filled with so much passion, so much emotion and the look in his eyes as he sings that he’ll ‘love her till his dying day’ as he lifts her up and twirls her around him, suddenly everything’s different. 

She’s positive now that it’s not just his voice that’s causing her body to combust (although the words he’s been whispering into her ear as they danced have left her weak and wanting, desire threatening to burn her alive), but years and years of denying themselves this part of their relationship, for whatever reason seemed appropriate at the time. She wonders why she ever thought it would be best to not admit that she was one hundred percent utterly and totally in love with him. 

As the music fades out, he dips her into the final pose, her head flows back as his comes to rest against her neck. She can feel his heart pounding against her side, knows her own is racing. This is where they usually end, his head buried in her neck, held tightly against him. But not tonight.

Tonight, Scott raises his head and looks deeply into her eyes, his arms pulling her tightly against him. His every emotion is reflected down at her and she’s never been more certain of anything in her life. She lets her own eyes speak back to him, conveying that she feels the same.

Neither is sure who moves first, but the next instant, his lips are on hers and it’s like everything and nothing she expected. It’s better than she could ever imagine, ever hope for. Her arms tighten around his neck, holding on for dear life as she pulls him closer, opening her lips to allow him to deepen the kiss. She’s pretty sure this is what heaven feels like.

Scott is lost in the feel of her pressed against him, her lips warm and soft against his as he proceeds to kiss her with every ounce of passion he’s been building up over the years for her. Finally, is the only thought that runs through his mind, quickly lost in the feeling of having her moving against him, her body pressing up towards him, yearning for closer contact. 

Without realizing he’s doing it, he moves them out of the final position and, lips still locked with hers, pulls them both to the floor, keeping her against his side, as she whimpers and then wraps her legs around him as best she can, despite the constricting nature of her dress. 

Tessa wonders fleetingly why it took them so long to do this. Probably, she thinks in a distant corner of her mind, because they’d both known they might never want to stop.

But any thoughts of stopping fly from her mind as his hand slides up her body, over her hips and up her side, stroking every part of her he can reach.

When she finally has to pull back, gasping for a desperately needed breath, she feels him bring his forehead to hers, his own breathing ragged. For a few minutes, they say nothing, simply working to regulate their breathing, absorbing what’s just happened. 

“Why in the world did we wait so long to do that?” It’s a mere whisper against her ear as she realizes that his voice has finally given out. But it still has the power to make her body shudder as she curls closer to him. 

“I don’t know, but now that we have, I really don’t want to stop. I don’t think I can stop now that I know what this is like.” She’s not sure where she gets the confidence to admit this, but something tells her it’s the right time and the right place to open up to him. 

She feels rather than sees him smile against her forehead. 

“And to think, if I’d have only known what losing my voice does to you, we could have done this sooner.” 

She pulls back at that, not surprised at all that he’s figured out what spurred on her reactions. Seeing the love in his eyes, she reaches up and presses another kiss on his lips. 

“Why don’t you save what voice you have left and kiss me again?” She sees his eyes spark and can’t resist. “I’ve got plans for that voice before you get it back.”

Scott groans as he leans down and captures her lips with his once more. He’s never been happier. 

~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so part of me says to leave it there. Another part says to take it to the logical conclusion. What do you all think? Should I leave it be or go further? Either way, thank you all so much for your support, kudos and comments. I can't tell you how much they inspire me and make me want to write more.


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our story ends where it should. The rating has changed, so make note of that!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here ends my first foray into this fandom. The support has been wonderful, incredible, and I am feeling so blessed to have such wonderful writers and readers. Here's to hoping I did you all justice in trying to write them this way.

Epilogue  
~*~*~*~*~

She’s panting for breath as Scott pulls back, inhaling deeply even as his lips continue to plant kisses across her chin and along her collarbone. She’s not sure of much right now, except that she never wants him to stop.

“I don’t plan to stop, ever, Tessa.” 

She doesn’t realize she must have spoken (more like panted she figures) that thought aloud and whimpers as his words (more of a hoarse groan) register. Her eyes lock on his as he meets her gaze, desire and love evident in his eyes. It takes her breath away. 

Before she can stop herself, she reaches up, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his lips back to hers, slipping her leg between his and pressing upward, desperate for friction, frustrated again by the restriction of her dress. His groan against her lips as he deepens the kiss sends her into a full body shudder as his arms tighten around her waist, pulling her harder against him.

It’s passionate, it’s fiery and its better than she’s ever dreamed. And she wants more, so much more. 

“Scott, I need you,” she manages to gasp as she pulls away and inhales a ragged breath, arching her hips against him in a way that clearly shows how desperate for him she is right now. 

He groans, his body hard and ready for hers as he presses his hips into hers, rocking against her in a way he’s dreamed about for years. It’s unlike (and much, much better than) anything he’s imagined and he wants to lose himself in her body, the sounds she’s making, the feel of her writhing against him in ways that he’s been thinking and dreaming about for far too long.

But while he’s ready to make her his then and there, it’s not what he’s imagined (although he’s sure it would be spectacular no matter where they make love). But Tessa deserves more than this. If (as he well intends) this is going to be the start of a whole new chapter of their lives, he’s damned if he’s going to take her on a cold, hard floor for their first time. 

“Tess, wrap your legs around me,” he whispers, the words coming harsh and guttural as he feels her inhale, sees her eyes flash at the words, but instinctively like she always does, follows his lead. He helps her slide the dress up until it bunches at her waist, freeing her legs to wrap around his. He’s the one who whimpers as she’s now flush against him, and he can feel the heat coming off her through several thin layers of clothing. His mind nearly short circuits as she instinctively arches to rub against him.

It’s a struggle, but he manages to lift them both to their feet (years of lifting her make this much easier even with their bodies so intimately entwined), shifting her weight to better maneuver them through the suite and towards the bedroom. 

She whimpers and buries her head against his neck, pressing open mouthed kisses everywhere she can, nipping and soothing with her tongue knowing it will leave a mark (she wants everyone to know that he's hers tomorrow). Her hips are moving against his as she’s dreamed about for years and all she can think of is how much better this is going to feel when they finally have nothing between them. 

She gasps as they fall to the bed, moaning as she feels his entire weight come to rest on top of her, his mouth desperately reaching for hers again, hands running up and down her sides. She’s desperate to touch him and panting, pulls back to work on his tie, throws it across the room when she gets it untied and reaches for the buttons on his shirt as he watches her, his eyes dark and stormy. She frowns as her fingers slip in her haste and struggle with the buttons. Finally, too impatient to wait, she gets the first two undone then rips the shirt open, buttons flying everywhere as she sets her hands moving across his chest.

He thinks he’s never been as aroused as he is watching Tessa tear his shirt open. Sure, he’s (kind of) imagined this scenario before, but it’s so much hotter in reality. He closes his eyes and draws a deep breath as her fingers brush across the sensitive skin of his chest, running from his collarbone down to the waistband of his slacks. He can’t hold back the moan as her right hand slips lower and brushes over his arousal as he arches into her hand.

Realizing he’s about to lose it, he reaches for her hands and pulls them back, pressing them above her head as he pants down at her. Her frown at being stopped is adorable and he leans down to kiss her pouting lips. 

“Someone’s a bit overdressed,” he whispers as he slips the dress down her arms, swallowing hard as he reveals a strapless green bra that compliments the paleness of her skin, the rosy crests of her breasts he can see straining at the lacy material.

His hands immediately reach for the clasp of her bra (thank God it’s a front one) and he delights in the moan she gives as he tosses it away and his palms cup her sensitive skin, kneading and stroking as she pants and begs him for more in a breathy voice that he loves hearing. Leaning down he sets his lips and tongue over her, growing harder as he hears her cries become louder. This only turns him on more. 

For her part, she wonders if it’s possible to lose it just from this. Her heart is nearly pounding out of her chest, her body is on fire and she wants nothing more than for Scott to be buried deep inside of her, sating the need that she’s almost sure will never go away now that they’ve given it free reign. 

“Scott,” she pants his name even as her fingers curl in his hair, tugging him harder against her, “Scott, please, I need…”

He pulls back, looks up at her, and smiles. 

“Patience Tess, I’ve waited too long to rush this.” His voice is low and smoky and before she can respond, his lips are pressing kisses down her stomach and over her belly button. She feels him slide his hands around her waist, arching her back, pressing her against him as he reaches to finish drawing her dress down her legs before pushing it to the floor. His lips immediately press against her center, covered only by a scrap of green lace. 

She cries out, the heat nearly unbearable as he moves back, slides his fingers under the edges of her panties and slips them down her legs, fingertips returning to brush over her now weeping center as her hips thrust up instinctively against him.

He struggles to breathe as she’s revealed to him in all her glory. She’s perfect, beautiful, the only thing he’s ever (if he’s honest) wanted in his life, at least since he was 9. He watches as she stares at him, eyes dark and luminous, hair spread out on the pillow, body heaving and panting with desire. For him. 

He gives her another wicked smile before he swoops down and buries his head between her legs. Her thighs immediately clench around him as he hears her cry out his name, but then he’s lost in the taste of her, the feel of her arching against him as he does his best to bring her to the edge.

He’s not going to lie, he’s not sure how he’s going to handle their signature lift after this. 

His mind is brought back to the present as her fingers pull at his hair, press him harder against her. He uses his tongue, his fingers, his breath to draw her higher, finds that swollen nub and flicks his tongue against it, delights in learning how that makes her swear, calling out his name, God’s name and a lot of other things he’s not able to quite make out. But he loves it all, because there’s no place he’d rather be right now than between her thighs, knowing he’s the one making her lose control. 

“Scott, please, I’m close…”

She’s not sure she can take much more of this as her body builds to a climax unlike any she’s managed herself (or with her few other partners over the years). Her heart feels like it’s about to beat out of her chest, her body on fire as whatever he’s doing with his tongue is driving her crazy.

She doesn’t know how she’s going to handle their signature lift after this- because there’s no way she’s not going to be thinking about this the next time they’re on the ice.

But that thought is quickly lost as he slips a finger, then two inside her, adding to the stimulation and she feels her body crest.

“Scott…” she lets go on a hoarse whisper of his name, waves of bliss washing over her as she contracts around his fingers, his tongue, and shudders against him, flying, soaring to the heavens, his breath hot and panting against her. She thinks it might be hours, although it’s probably only minutes, before she returns to reality. Managing to pry open her eyes, her heart leaps again to see him staring up at her from between her thighs, a look of wonder on his face.

“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Tessa,” he husks, and she shudders at the feel of his breath against her still sensitive flesh. 

But she soon realizes that it’s not enough. Will never be enough until they see this through to the inevitable conclusion she’s pretty sure they’ve been building up to over the past 20 years. 

“Come up here,” she husks, reaching to pull at his hair, shivering as he slides up her body, gasping as she feels him, hot and hard between her legs. She frowns, realizing he still has his pants on.

“Off,” she whispers, reaching for the button and zipper, feeling him shudder against her as she pushes both his pants and boxers down and helps him kick them off and to the floor. As he settles back against her, she allows her hand to reach down and grasp him, hearing his sharply in-drawn breath as she strokes gently, getting a feel for him, and what he likes.

He feels like silk over steel and she wants nothing more now than to see if he feels the same when he’s buried deep inside her, making her scream his name. 

“Tess,” his eyes close as he struggles to keep control of his body, even as he’s moving with her strokes, the feel of her soft hand against him almost more than he can stand. “Tessa, please…” he’s not sure what he’s asking but he needs her to do something, anything, before he completely loses it. 

She can tell he’s on the edge and feels her body ramping up again, desire and passion and love mixing together to make her desperate to feel him inside her. 

“Scott, take me, I’m yours,” she husks, guiding him to her center, then arching against him, rubbing his hardness through her slick wetness, shuddering at feeling him there.

Scott groans as he slides against her, so close to where he’s always wanted to be. He desperately needs to push forward and complete them, complete this, but he suddenly realizes there’s something else he needs to do first. 

She whimpers, eyes flying to his as he pulls back, and he soothes her with a touch of his hand to her waist. “Hold on, I’ll need to get something,” he whispers, placing a kiss against her stomach as he slides back and reaches down to the floor, grabs his pants, and fumbles in the pocket for a moment, before finding what he’s looking for. 

He pulls the small foil packet out and moves back towards Tessa, can feel her eyes watching him. He settles himself back onto his thighs and rips open the packet.

She reaches for his hands as he pulls the condom out, taking it from his fingers and with a small, knowing smile, reaches down and sheaths him. She watches as his breath shudders out on a groan as she strokes him several times, then guides him back to his rightful place between her legs. She whimpers, eyes falling closed as she rubs herself against him, desperate for friction.

“Tessa, look at me,” he whispers, as her eyes open and catch on his. “Watch me finally make you mine.”

He pushes forward, biting his lip as her heat and wetness engulfs him, feeling better than anything he’s ever known. He watches as her eyes widen, feels her body stretch to accommodate the feeling of him, finally where he’s meant to be. 

“Scott…” his name is a whisper on her lips as he settles himself fully inside her, pausing a moment, struggling for control, allowing her to get used to him. She fits him like a glove and he can tell she feels the same, able to read everything in her eyes. 

“Tessa…” he husks, wanting to move but wanting to make sure she’s okay. It's an instinct he's had towards her since they were kids and its not one he's ready to break now.

She knows he’s waiting for a sign from her, they’ve been doing a version of this dance for years, only now, now it’s as real as it’s ever been. And she’s never been more okay with anything.

So she moves first, canting her hips up against his, whimpering at the feeling the move sends through her body. She feels Scott shudder and begin to move.

Their bodies, as always, move perfectly together, pulling and pushing, thrusting and retreating, following the pace as one, then the other leads. As in their dancing, this even more intimate dance grows more passionate with every move, whispers and moans and pleas escaping them both as they move towards release.

She shudders as his raspy voice grows frantic, pleas and whispers of “fuck” and “Tessa” and “so good” filling her ears as he thrusts deeper and stronger against her. She meets him in full, whispering her own replies of “more” and “God, harder” and “Scott, please!” over and over until she’s just as hoarse as he.

They reach the peak together and for a second, before they crash over it, their eyes meet and lock, gazes connected, seeing into each other’s souls. She cries out his name as she falls over the edge, wave after wave of ecstasy sweeping through her as she clenches rhythmically around him. 

He moans her name as he gives several hard, frantic thrusts, then feels himself release, drawn into the clenching of her muscles around him and the pure bliss of falling with her into an ecstasy like he’s never known. 

For moments, maybe hours, their bodies shudder against each other, unwilling to give up the utter bliss they both feel. But gravity and exhaustion finally overcome this, and he collapses on top of her, feeling all his strength sapped. 

She loves the feeling of him against her, still inside her, body warm and hard and now, completely hers. She finds the strength, somehow, to wrap her arms around his back, pulling him even more tightly to her, not minding at all the fact that he’s nearly crushing her with his weight. She doesn’t want him to move, maybe not ever. 

His breathing is still rough as he rests his head against her neck, planting kisses in his familiar spot, feeling her pulse still pounding against his lips as she comes down. He suddenly realizes he must be crushing her and goes to roll to the side, but her arms around his back hold him in place and she pushes herself tighter against him. It’s obvious she doesn’t want him to move, and while he’s still worried he’s crushing her, he knows her body and her mind well enough to know that if it gets to be too much, she’ll let him know.

They’re quiet as their breathing slowly returns to normal. He finally manages to raise his head from her neck, chin coming to rest on her collarbone as he looks up to find her eyes, an even darker shade of green now, staring down at him, pure joy, and love so clearly reflected there.

“You know I love you, that I’m in love with you, don’t you?” She probably should have said this before, but she’s pretty sure they wouldn’t have made it to this point if he didn’t already know this. But she wants to make sure there’s no doubt.

He smiles. 

“I kind of figured that from tonight’s events,” he responds, his voice still hoarse but knows she can hear the smile in it. “And in case you were wondering, I love you too. I think I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

She feels tears gather in her eyes as she listens to him. She’s been in love with him her whole life as well and she’s finding it hard to believe they’ve finally made it here. To the place she’s dreamed about more often than she cares to admit.

She winces slightly as she feels him move, withdrawing from her and slipping from the bed. She watches, body completely languid as he moves over to the bathroom, disposes of the condom and returns with a warm washcloth. She feels tears gathering again as he takes care to make sure he cleans them both, tossing the cloth to the floor and slipping back under the covers, pulling her into his arms and curling her into his body. 

There’s still so much she wants to say, so much they need to talk about, but she can already feel the pull of sleep calling to her. As she feels his lips come to rest on her forehead, his body settling against hers and their breathing sync, she knows they’ll have plenty of time to figure out where they go next. As long as its together, she’s up for anything. 

She falls asleep with a smile on her lips and dreams of the future she's finally ready to face. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and leaving kudos and feedback. It is so much appreciated!
> 
> I have some ideas for future stories, although I'd love to bounce them off people and get some feedback. So if you feel like talking T&S and them getting together in fanfiction (or just talk about the beauty that is them in real life), drop me a note. You can also find me on Twitter at olicity1013 and YouTube at LexChloe1013.


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